Zaki Lee froze, his expression instantly blackening. A fat fish had flung itself from the pile, its tail—still bleeding from the spear wound—smacking squarely across his cheek. A crimson streak marred his face, sharp against his skin. His jaw twitched. The fish flailed weakly in his grasp, gills opening and closing as if mocking him with its last breath, until his tightening fingers stilled it forever. He tossed the limp body onto the heap with a scowl.
For a moment, only the crackle of the fire filled the cave.
Then, a sound he had never expected—clear, light, and sharp as crystal bells—cut through the silence.
“Heh…”
It was laughter.
Easther, whose face had always been carved in marble indifference, sat with her shoulders trembling ever so slightly, her lips curved into a smile that
